


A heart for murder

by Spamantha124



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF, Ryan Haywood - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fake AH Crew, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:18:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spamantha124/pseuds/Spamantha124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You, the reader, are trying to pull off a solo heist when the Fake AH Crew decides to show up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fourtuitous Encounter

Dusk was settling across Los Santos’ skyline. Your matte, black motorcycle zips through traffic with smooth precision, the overhead street lights coming to life as the cloudy night swallows the city. A horn blares from behind. Jerking to the side a large vehicle flies past. It’s occupied by a rowdy bunch of guys calling out obscenities as the, what you presume to be, SUV cuts through. You squeeze down on the throttle, irritated by their carelessness, and rocket forward. Flipping a hand gesture telling them to perform an impossible act of masturbation you speed off. There are more important things to do on the list tonight then deal with assholes.

Ten minutes later you are parking the bike behind a dumpster in an alleyway beside the big time bank that you had been scoping out. There is an access ladder on this side that leads to the roof as well as a side exit you plan on leaving through. Once inside you would be able to disable the security systems for a time. Time enough to crack open the vault and take a nice little chunk of change. Sighing you begin to climb as a soft rumble in the distance threatens rain moving in. Thankfully the bank didn’t find the need to put cameras up here which made picking the lock easy enough. You slip in and stalk down the hall while pulling out a compact laptop from the duffle bag slung across your shoulder. There is an electrical panel just around the corner. Feeling along the wall where the floor plan said it would be your glove snags on the corner and, grinning, pop it open.

If it wasn’t for the helmet you probably would have seen it better but this “withdrawal” would change that. The next upgrade will be creating a night vision integration system allowing you to ride without headlights safely on getaways as well as let you be extra sneaky. You plug in and type away, stalling the systems and disabling the alarms for six minutes tops. The program finishes and you tuck the computer back in the duffle, hurrying down the hall to a flight of stairs leading down. Cracking the vault takes no time at all and you are in, shoveling money into your bag, when you hear an explosion.

_What the hell was that?_

Hurriedly you fill the rest of the bag and scurry over to the still ajar vault entrance. Peeking around the door you see a group of masked individuals climbing through the dusty new entrance blown into the side of the building. They must have given up on trying to unlock the side door and said fuck it. Instinctively you reach down for one of the small smoke bombs strapped to your belt. As the men draw closer they notice the vault was open and slow down. One of the men starts yelling out.

“Whoever the fuck is in there you better come out now. This is OUR heist so beat it!”

You stay quiet, looking at the time and wait as they approach. In about a minute and thirteen seconds the security feeds will be up and they will be the ones taking the heat for the robbery. The loud one grabs the vault door and drags it open further. As he does you set off the smoke bomb startling them more, a few of the guys are spewing curses. Taking the opportunity you dash past them in the confusion, arms crossed protectively in front of you as you can’t see any better than they can. Nudging through a few flailing limbs and bumping into one individual you clear the cloud of smoke. Mr. Loudmouth, who you assume is their leader, starts shouting instructions that you ignore. The gaping hole in the wall is directly ahead and you make a beeline for it. Hopping over the rubble, and stumbling over a few loose bricks, you turn to jump on your bike and sling the duffle around to your front. Footsteps echo into the alley from behind just before you kick the cycle to life. Something grabs at your jacket just as you squeeze down the throttle. Turning to look you come face to face with a rather unsettling black skull mask. The man in said mask attempts to pull you off however, with the sudden thrust forward from the bike, he half falls half clings it instead.

You swing one arm wildly behind trying to knock your assailant off. He manages to right himself on the bike, one hand still gripping your jacket while the other starts groping at the handlebars for the brakes. The sound of alarms wail to life from the bank as you are speeding down the street. You drive for a while and, try as you might, cannot shake the man off. His fidgeting causes you to drive a bit erratically. Fearing an accident you pull off the road turning into an empty parking lot behind a few buildings.

As the bike slows the struggle between the two of you increases. Now, with no fear of becoming road kill, he rips you away from the bike unceremoniously. You land on the bag akwardly, it taking the brunt of the toss. The laptop is probably trash now. Stripping it off you gather your composer and stand to face him only to be tackled down again. The two of you grapple for a bit. You can’t see shit through the helmet and, even though it may be protecting your precious head, take it off. You manage to dodge most of his punches and return a hit here or there. What few hits you take seem to be glancing blows. No matter how nimble you are he overpowers you greatly. After a particularly solid hit to the side of your ribs you manage to get some distance.

“Alright, alright, just stop!” You hold your hands up in a surrender, breath puffing from the struggle. “The hell do you want?”

Sirens can be heard in the distance but they don’t seem to be headed towards you. The masked man gives a low chuckle while dusting his clothes off.

“Well, I was _supposed_ to stop you and see if you were trying to sabotage us but it looks like plans have... changed.”

Rain starts to make its appearance in fat, cold droplets, the wind was coming in slow but steady bursts. A crack of thunder sounds the storm growing nearer.

You brush the hair out of your eyes. “And I was supposed to be long gone but here we are. Look, I didn't hear about anyone planning to hit that bank. If I had known I would have left you to it.” You hold out your hands palm up, catching a few drops of rain in them, and shrug.

“Too lat-” His phone starts ringing mid sentence. Digging into one of the many jackets pockets he pulls it out and answers it, turning away slightly from you for a moment.

“Yeah... No... Uh-huh. Ok.”

He hangs up and turns back to you, or at least where you were a moment ago. While he was distracted you grabbed your helmet and snuck to the bike. The helmet had been between you and the bike. The duffle however was within the man's line of sight so you had to leave it. Better your life then the money. As he was turning back you started the bike up and took off.


	2. A Felicitous Concurrence

**Chapter 2**

**A Felicitous Concurrence**

The night had started out average enough. Gavin, Jeremy, and Michael were growing restless and decided to pesture Geoff, who was had just wanted to play games, for some action until Geoff caved. The lot of them bickered for about twenty minutes trying to pick where to strike. Eventually they decided by throwing darts at the city map till one stuck that wasn’t in the middle of the ocean. Turns out it hit some fancy pants bank uptown. Satisfied with their random selection the boys had geared up and did some quick research. They had hit this high class bank in the past so the information was readily available. Jack returned with a basic layout and point of entry for reference. Jeremy, scolding Gavin for trying to grab the keys to the Dubsta 6x6, claims he is on chauffeur duty. There was no way in hell anyone was letting the brit be the getaway driver tonight. Michael leads the way to the garage, calling shotgun only to be overruled by Geoff, and climbs into the backseat next to Gavin. A bundle of duffle bags for the cash, a case of ammo, and a bag of explosives take up the middle seat. Jack hops into the bed of the vehicle on the driver's side and turns to the only guy not in yet.

“Looks like you and me riding in the back this time Ryan.” Jack settles herself in the back as comfortably as is humanly possible, making sure to lay low so as not to be noticed.

Ryan shrugs indifferently. “Hey, as long as we don’t get a surprise pool party while leaving it’s ok with me.” He jumps in at the opposite side and situates himself, though it takes more effort with the amount of height he had in comparison to Jack’s slender figure as well as the fact he needed to be able to shield his rocket launcher from view. For the final touch he pulls on his trademark mask.

Looking at Ryan’s mask Jack shudders, pulls on her own mask, and knocks on the rear window to signal they were good to go. “That thing always gives me the creeps. I definitely prefer the face paint.” 

“Too bad. When it rains it screws my paint up. Besides I like the intimidation factor my skull  _ instills _ in my victims.” He chuckles darkly.

Jack rolls her eyes as the car takes to the highway, the radio blasting to life amplifying the excitement of the Lads. They were so excited, in fact, that Jeremy almost ran over some biker, blaring his horn as a warning while the others hollered out the windows. Jack and Ryan peak their heads up to see the poor soul about to be creamed. The biker jerked out of the way only to pass back by while flipping them off. The crew howled with laughter and continued on, albeit at a slower pace, allowing the boys to focus on calming down. Not long after they pulled up a few streets away from the bank and pile out save for Jeremy who would be staying in the car at the ready. Jack nimbly hops out of the back startling a squawk from Gavin while Ryan takes a minute to clamber out, his limbs a bit stiff from being crammed in the back while cradling his weapon of choice for the night. 

“Alright. Show time.” Geoff says as he gestures to the alleyway.

Gavin stays put for a minute fidgeting with his mask. “Hold a sec. I can’t see.”

“Jesus Gav, every time! You’d think he’d figure out how to put the damn thing on right by now!” Michael huffs, walking around to help sort Gavin out.

Jeremy leans out of the window. “Hey Gav. You should really consider cutting a hole out for that big honker of yours. Problem solved!”

“Oh shut it Lil’ J.” Gavin grumbles as Michael fixes the mask.

“ _ Come on _ dickheads.” Geoff calls out in annoyance.

They gather around the side entrance, the boys taking turns trying to pick the lock. As they mess with the door Ryan takes a quick look around and notices a dark mass at the far end of the dumpster that occupies the alley. From here it looks like...a handlebar? Perhaps someone left their bicycle. He moves to take a closer looks but is stopped when Michael calls to him.

“Fuck this. Hey, Ryan, just blow a hole in the damn thing!”

Though no one could see the grin plastered to Ryan’s face under the mask they could hear it in his voice.

“My pleasure.”

Before Geoff could object Ryan was pulling the launcher onto his shoulder while backing up to a reasonably not-going-to-die-from-the-explosion distance. The others scrambled out of the way and, once deeming them out of the immediate danger zone, he pulls the trigger. The blast blew brick bits into the air and before the debris had even settle the crew began moving in. Once they were past the dust they were able to look around. Jack waves at Gavin and Michael while nudging Geoff, motioning towards the vault which is standing slightly ajar. Everyone raises their weapons and slows down, Geoff taking lead followed by Jack, Michael and Gavin on either side of them, and Ryan taking up the rear.

“Whoever the fuck is in there you better come out now. This is OUR heist so beat it!” Geoff yell threateningly. He is met with no response.

Gavin leans in whispering to the guys. “Think they buggered off before we got here?” Everyone turns to glare at him silently as he shrugs.

Geoff grabs the edge of the vault and yanks it open further when a smoke bomb sets off startling the crew.

“Son of a bitch!”

“What the hell?!”

“Whaaa!”

“Holy shit!”

“Fucking christ!”

A figure nudges past the boys as they wave their arms about in an attempt to dissipate the smoke, bumping into Ryan who staggers back a step dropping his rocket launcher, and runs to leave the building. Geoff starts shouting for the boys to grab the money and for Ryan to “catch that fucker” incase this was somehow a set up. Ryan turns and sprints after the person, jumping over the rubble with ease. The individual was running towards the dumpster where that bike Ryan had spotted earlier was stashed. Thankfully his long legs make catching up a breeze and he makes it as the person revs the motorcycle to life. Lunging he reaches out grabbing the guy’s jacket as the bike jolts forward. In panic he clings to the bike, grabbing for the handlebars in an attempt to find the brakes only to be met with his opponents battling arm. Ryan manages to right himself on the bike, still firmly gripping the jacket, and continues his mission to stop this surprise joy ride as the alarm sounds distantly from the bank. The driver swings their arm wildly in an effort to knock Ryan off which makes the bike swerve unsettlingly, causing Ryan to wrap his arm around the torso of the individual, which he now knows is a she. The two of you continue to struggle, the woman’s driving becoming more and more unstable. For fear of falling off and losing her Ryan pins a tracer to the back of her jacket. She slows down and pulls off the main road. Ryan takes his chance to usurp the bike of it’s owner by throwing the girl off effortlessly before dismounting it as well, leaving the bike to fall heavily onto the pavement. He takes a second, watching the girl struggle to get up.

_ This should be over quickly, what a shame. _

As she ditches her bag Ryan charges, tackling the girl to the ground and tries to pin her down. As it turns out she was much more flexible the he first thought, struggling to keep a hold of the squirming woman. She manages to wiggle out of his grasp, tosses off her helmet while Ryan picks himself up, and regains her composure. It was short lived as she begins dodging and returning blows from Ryan. Her agility was enthralling to him and he wondered how long she could keep it up for. She seems to be getting slower after a few minutes of this dancing about and he lands a nice, solid hit to her torso, causing her to stagger a few feet back.

“Alright, alright, just stop!” The woman calls, out of breath. “The hell do you want?”

By now the sounds of authorities are more audible in the direction of the bank. Ryan give one of his iconic chuckles and brushes himself off. 

“Well, I was  _ supposed _ to stop you and see if you were trying to sabotage us but it looks like plans have... changed.” He was intrigued she managed to stand up against him for as long as she had before taking any _ real _ damage.

The wind begins to pick up as the cold rain begins its descent upon the city, a clap of thunder signifying a full blown storm moving in.

Brushing the hair out of her eyes she quips back with a hint of sass. “And  _ I _ was supposed to be long gone but here we are. Look, I didn't hear about anyone planning to hit that bank. If I had known I would have left you to it.”  

“Too lat-” Ryan’s cell begins to ring mid sentence and pulls it out. It’s Jeremy. He turns, keeping the lady in his peripheral vision, so his conversation isn’t as easily heard.

“Ryan you ok?” Gun fire can be heard in the background wherever Jeremy was calling from.

“Yeah.”

“Were you able to catch that dude?” Explosions and distant screaming come through the earpiece somewhat muffled.

“...No.” He answers as the girl creeps around behind him.

“Oh damn. Think you can make it back to the safe house?”

“Uh-huh.” Michael’s voice is audible from Jeremy’s side of the conversation telling Lil’ J to get ready to haul ass.

“Fuck. Shit’s getting real. Gotta go.”

“Ok.” The call ends as Ryan turns back to where his opponent had been standing, knowing full well she was not there any longer, and was greeted by the engine of the motorcycle starting back up.

Tucking the phone away he watched quietly as she made her escape. He collects the duffle bag and makes his way to the street just in time to see the motorbike’s distant tail lights disappear around the corner. Not many people attempt to take him on, let alone one-on-one, and survive. He shakes his head and keeps walking, the rain starting to pick up slowly. She had definitely taken the Fake Achievement Hunter Crew by surprise tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the support! I'm celebrating with another chapter already. It encourages me to keep going strong. I hope to have more for you soon.


	3. An Unheralded Visitor

**Chapter 3**

**An Unheralded Visitor**

_ Holy fuck. _

While escaping rapid gunfire and several explosions could be heard from the direction of the bank. Shit was going down and you didn't stick around to find out who was causing it, though sneaking suspicion suggested it was that same group of ruffians. More sirens filled the air and even a helicopter passed overhead towards the commotion. This will undoubtedly be on the news later. Maybe they would know who these asshat were. 

The rain was coming down in sheets as you weaved through traffic back to the apartment complex. No point in stopping by the safe house without the spoils. Punching in the gate code to the garage, somewhatly annoyed by the driver behinds headlights glaring off the bikes’ viewing mirrors, you finally make it in soaking wet at this point. At least the helmet kept your head mostly dry. Waterproofing was definitely on the list of improvements. You shake off as much water as possible before heading upstairs. 

Once finally inside you plop onto the couch taking off both boots and helmet simultaneously. You start to stretch out and immediately regret it, wincing while reaching around to where the masked man had punched you in the ribs. It was tender to say the least. Fractured? Possibly. Bruised? Absolutely. Reaching for the remote you flip the television on to the news and stand to hang the jacket by the door. The reporter is recapping the events of the last hour and by the sounds of it the gaggle of guys got away with a good chunk of profit. 

“-dian bank. Thousands of dollars in property damage and dozens left injured or dead in the wake of this latest robbery. The manhunt continues however currently the police do not have any clues as to who was responsible but they have their suspicions it ma-” 

_ Of course they don’t know who it is. They never do. _

The tv fades to background noise as you walk to the shower, stripping clothes off along the way. Giving the damage a once over you notice that for the most part your face was unscathed. The rest was dotted with freshly blossoming bruises, cuts, and scrapes save for your chest. Just below your right breast was an ugly, dark splotch where that final punch landed. You feel it lightly, pressing fingertips to the sore flesh. Yup. That’s a fracture. You would have to take it easy for a bit to keep from exacerbating it. At least that time can be used to plan the next hit and try to make up for this failure. 

Satisfied with the quick check up you start the shower, step in, and pull the curtain closed half assed. Water will probably get on the floor but you really don’t care at the moment. I mean, come on, it’s tile, it’ll be fine. Unless you just started dumping water out the carpeted floor of the bedroom would see no harm. And it wasn’t like anyone was going to come in and scold you for it. You lived alone, what little family you had left lived on the other side of the country. To be honest you kinda preferred it that way. It would be nice to have someone special in your life but in this line of “work” it was hard to find trustworthy guys who didn’t flip their shit the minute they knew what you did. Your mind wanders into the forbidden realm of relationships while scrubbing clean.

Now freshly showered you step out and dry off. Rubbing your damp hair with the towel you walk to the kitchen, still naked, to find something to snack on and freeze mid stride. Sitting on the couch is the just abandoned duffle bag and a short, handwritten note. Hesitantly you walk over and pick up the letter.

__ _ Little Miss Vixen, _

_ Though our meeting was brief I must say I find you quite intriguing. Not many dare face me in combat and live. I must compliment you on your exemplary agility and wish to see how skilled you truly are. I have returned your items in hopes of keeping good terms.  _

__ __ __ __ __ __ _ Until we meet again, _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _ Vagabond _

_ P.S. You may want to consider watching your rear if you plan to leave doors open. Though I cannot complain about the view. _

You let the towel slide to the floor in embarrassment, cheeks on fire from blushing. He must have looked around checking to see if anyone else was here and walked into the open bathroom. You were torn between being angry and impressed. He broke in and hadn’t made a sound. How had he found you? There was no way he kept up on foot. Did he plant a tracker on you? You decide to check the jacket inside out but find nothing and move onto the discarded clothes. Still nothing. The bike? No. He wouldn't know which exact apartment if he just tracked the bike. Giving up on the wild goose chase you check out the bag. It was  _ significantly _ less full as a majority of the money had been taken. The laptop was still inside as well and, upon inspection, found it to be unscathed. It must have ended up being cushioned by the cash when you fell on it. It didn’t appear to be tampered with either. 

Sighing you decide to resume getting your snack on and go to put on some pajamas. Nothing you could do now anyways. You pour a drink as the microwave beeps, signaling it is done nuking the leftover pizza tossed in it. Sitting down at the computer, with pizza and drink in hand, you begin researching possible heist locations. 

Nothing looked promising that hadn’t been hit recently. You decide to Skype Jon and see if there were any good bounties out. It was fairly late so you were unsure if he would answer. The call rings a few times, fueling the uncertainty, before being picked up.

“Why hello lovely. To what do I owe the honor?” Jon says sporting a smirk, voice full of humor.

“Har har. Sweet talk gets you nowhere. Was wondering if there were any good bounties out this week?” 

He starts rifling through papers on his end.

“Let’s see… I have a Mr. Thompson, he is the head scientist at a pharmaceutical company who has been giving positive but false information on bad meds, dead for 7K. Mr. Lambert is wanted for ripping off some drug dealers, dead 10K, alive 15K. Little Mrs. Dagler is wanted dead for cheating on hubby, 3k is all he’s got. And lastly I have a bunch of people wanting the same guy mugged. British guy by the name of Gav-”

“Not interested in a mugging Jon but thanks. Not much going in then. How long has the Lambert hit been open?”

“Just opened today. I’ll send you the info. Call or text me when you finish and bring him to the usual spot. I’ll set everything up then.” The furious typing of his keyboard comes through the computer’s speakers as he sends the files.

“Appreciate it. I’ll keep you updated. Later.” 

“I know you will. Night lovely.” 

He signs off at the same time the computer notification pops up with a new email. The rest of the evening was spent pouring over the details of Mr. Lambert. His normal daytime job, relations, general routines, anything that was available. By the time everything was set and planned it was almost 6 in the morning. Stretching carefully you stifle a yawn and decide to crawl into bed. Unfortunately you had to keep up the facade of normal income therefore calling for a steady daytime job. A job that you were scheduled to work for tomorrow, technically now today, at 11 am. There would not enough coffee to satisfy this lack of sleep. Taking your cell phone, which had been left at home during the heist tonight, from the nightstands edge you plug it in to charge. The screen lights up and you nearly drop it in surprise. The home screen had been changed to a selfie of the man in the skull mask giving a victory sign, one eye closed and the bottom of the mask peeled up so as to stick his tongue out. 

_ Are you fucking kidding? Who is this guy? _

Forget it. It’s late. You are tired. Tossing the phone back onto the nightstand you snuggle into the sheets and fall asleep in a matter of minutes. Tomorrow was a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies. I feel this is a bit short but it seems to be more difficult to write reader parts for me. Hope you enjoy it none the less!


	4. An Unexpected Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you lovelies. Hope you all enjoy it!

**Chapter 4**

**An Unexpected Guest**

_ Interesting. I'll keep my eye on her. _

It didn’t take Ryan long to catch a ride. Catch a ride meaning stopping the first passing vehicle and  _ persuading _ the driver out of it. “Persuading” people tends to get sorta... murdery. He was fortunate the driver carelessly had the windows rolled half down at this hour. It was a clean shot in the top half of the driver's side window, out the open rear passenger's window. It meant he didn’t have to pick out any glass from the seat before climbing in. The blood and bits on the other hand absolutely _ ruined _ the beige interior. Good thing he wouldn’t be “borrowing” this car for long. After driving a few miles to get out of the area, which was becoming quite lively with the chaos of his fellow crew members, Ryan pulls over onto a dark side road to stop. Taking off the unsettling mask he wipes sweat from his brow and relaxes, for but a moment, before starting an app on his phone to track the vixen down.

It seemed she was headed generally southwest bound, the little dot representing the tracker wandered back and forth on screen signifying, what he always presumed to be, lane or small street changes. Setting the phone down in one of the car’s copious cup holders, pointed in such a way so the screen was still visible, he follows the lass wherever she may lead.

He actually managed to catch up to her as she was stopping at the garage gate. After typing in the numbers she pulled away quickly, no doubt to get out of the rain, leaving him with enough time to squeeze past the gates arm before it closed again and parks on the opposite end. Not only would it be harder for him to be spotted but it would also allow time for her guard to drop by settling down for the evening. Taking a glance about Ryan notices no one around, but at this hour who would be? Quickly he dumps a vast majority of the cash into his pack but is sure to leave a few nice stacks, the laptop, and writes a short letter.

_ Little Miss Vixen, _

_ Though our meeting was brief I must say I find you quite intriguing. Not many dare face me in combat and live. I must compliment you on your exemplary agility and wish to see how skilled you truly are. I have returned your items in hopes of keeping good terms.  _

__ __ __ __ __ __ _ Until we meet again, _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _ Vagabond _

Before exiting the car he puts the mask back on, grabs the duffle bag, and makes his way up the emergency stairs, to keep the chances of being spotted low, while keeping an eye on the TrackApp observing how close he was to the same height elevation as the tracer. Ryan waits a few minutes on the correct landing before heading down to the lady’s door. Sounds of the t.v. news reporter can be heard through the door while he picked the lock open.

“-er currently the police do not have any clues as to who was responsible but they have their suspicions it may have been the infamous Fake Achievement Hunter Crew. Back to you Aaron.”

“Thank you Barbara. In other news, the Cluckin’ Bell strike is still ongoing as-”

*Click*

The door opens softly onto the empty living room. Almost immediately next to the door is the jacket, tracer just barely visible on its back paneling. Ryan plucks it off as he moves to shut the door behind him. There is a trail of soggy clothes littering the floor in the direction of the only other door, which was open to the sight of a bed and dresser, in the apartment. Ryan sets the bag and note down on the couch quietly, tensing when the clear sound of running water starts up. Creeping into the bedroom he peers around the corner through the bathroom door, looking for the source of the noise, to see the bare backside of the damsel he was hunting. A low heat stirred within him, not too unlike the feelings he gets while fighting with a worthy opponent.

There was the short buzz of a phone vibrating nearby that brought him back to the here and now. Turning towards the nightstand, that was conveniently nestled nearby, the screen flashes a notification before presenting the ‘slide to unlock’ message. A mischievous thought crosses his mind. Ryan grabs the phone, unlocks it, and brings up the camera. Pulling up the bottom of the mask exposes his mouth enough to stick out his tongue. Flashing a victory sign he snaps a picture with a wink and proceeds to set it as the home screens new image. While in he pulls the woman's number in order to arrange a future sparring session or fight. He sets the phone back down before slipping back out to the living room. Making a detour back over to the couch he adds a small footnote.

_ P.S. You may want to consider watching your rear if you plan to leave doors open. Though I cannot complain about the view. _

Ryan chuckles and takes his leave as the sound of the shower stops. No one bothers him on the way back to the car nor was there much traffic this late, er, make that early in the morning cluttering the roadways. Before the heist they had chosen which of the many safe houses scattered about to meet at. Each was big enough to house each crew member with an individual storage/sleeping room. The safehouse being used this time around was located way out in the Sandy Shores area, about an hours worth of drive. All of the preset radio stations from the former owner are garbage to him. Some mix of Hip-Hop, Latino, and… was that country? Becoming impatient he twists the dial forcefully, static filling the space as it poorly receives a somewhat familiar song. Fiddling with the in between channels he is able to hone in on Cake’s take of ‘I Will Survive’. Ripping the mask off he grins furiously and joins in, hamming up the bad singing along with the song. The remainder of the drive continued in the same fashion with several good classic rock songs and a pleasant surprise via drunken, call-in request for ‘Barbie Girl’.

About half a mile away from his destination Ryan ditches the car, tossing some timed explosives in it on the way out. He opens the door to the safe house and is greeted with cheers of welcome back which are interrupted by the sounds of the car exploding several blocks back. The boys peer around Ryan’s tall form to see the vehicle land in the middle of the distant road, engulfed in flames, before commenting on his handiwork almost simultaneously.

“Couldn't wait to blow up shit could you.” 

“Jesus Ryan.”

“Anyone have any marshmallows?”

“Bloody hell man”

“Alright! Party don't start till shit’s on fire!”

Turns out after losing the cops the boys decided to hit up the local liquor store, like actually bought the stuff. They were considerate enough to pick up some Diet Coke in Ryan’s absence. Jack tosses one to Ryan who pops it open with a satisfying crack. The can was empty by the time Ryan made it downstairs to deposit the bag in the safe room. A good chunk of the vault had made it to this room. He tosses the cash in the pile of other money bags, walks back up to exchange the empty can for a full one, and drops onto one of the many oversized beanbag chairs that dotted the main room.

“So what happened to that guy?” Geoff asks as he resumes the versus match he has against Michael. 

“Guy had a motorcycle as his getaway. I managed to grab the money off him but he shook me off a few miles out.” Ryan answers in between sips of Diet Coke. It wasn’t a lie. Not the whole truth, but not a lie. Geoff seemed satisfied and proceeded to get his virtual ass kicked. The night went on with rambunctious enthusiasm over drinks and games. One by one they drift off to sleep. Ryan settles down to sleep reflecting back to the night’s events, thoughts lingering on the woman who had recently caught his attention and hoping she won’t disappoint his expectations.


	5. Preparations

**Chapter** **5**

**Preparations**

The morning comes all too soon. Thankfully it was a short day full of scheduling, calling contacts, and making arrangements for this weekends event. Some overly rich group was having an extensive bachelor party last minute so planning was hectic. Come Friday you would be acting as a server but also be keeping an eye on the men as a bouncer. If they harassed the girls performing for them there would be hell to pay in advance. It was hard to get a grasp of what was truly going on when party goers were not being intimidated by the plentiful amount of large, muscled, and armed male bouncers. There was no invite only list as the ‘guest of honor’ believed the more the merrier. Unfortunately word was getting around town in a lot of high, and low, places. Everyone would have to be on alert for the inevitable gatecrashing that would follow. But that was still a ways away. Plenty of time to get ready.

The next couple of days were busy between work and finding a good time to “pick up” Mr. Lambert. He eventually let his guard down come Thursday evening, allowing you to incapacitate and capture him outside of the Ammunation in Morningwood of all places. Whatever he had just purchased there didn’t help. The exchange went smoothly as Jon had set everything up and collected the bounty within an hour. As per usual after any business arrangements the two of you met up for coffee and an inconspicuous cash exchange of which he would have already taken his cut. Jon wasn’t only a bounty contact but also a good friend so this was excuse enough to meet up for some chit chat. You walk into the shop and head over to where Jon was seated and waving. 

“Well good morning sunshine. How have we been?” He greets you before taking a sip of tea.

“Don’t remind me. This week has been hectic to say the least.” Grabbing copious amounts of creamer and sugar you add it to the coffee Jon was so kind to order before hand. He had also asked for muffins of which you choose the chocolate variety.

“I noticed. It was a surprised when you called the other night. I assume something went...awry?”

You manage to talk around a mouth full of delicious muffin. “Oou shee da newsh dat noit?” 

Jon raised an eyebrow and just stared, not understanding. You swallow the bite, chase it down with some coffee, and repeat. 

“You see the news that night? I was interrupted by a group of assholes and didn’t get much. One guy, goes by Vagabond, almost took me out but I was able to get away. Any idea who they are?”

“Oooh. A little revenge plotting? I like.” Jon leans his elbows on the table, fingers tented together and rests his chin on them seemingly tickled by the idea.

“Maybe. Curious as to who one-upped me.”

“I’ll call around and see what I can find. Word is getting around about a big time party coming up catered by your work place.”

“I’ve heard. I’m concerned some gangs are going to try and hit my party event. Girls and free booze? Who could resist. Know anyone I can hire for some undercover protection?” You cram the rest of the muffin into your mouth, not being able to resist it’s tastiness any longer.

“Of course! I have just the group in mind. I’ll hook you up, no worries. You can pay me later.”

“Have I ever told you that you are a lifesaver?”

“Several times.” 

“Well you are a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, how’s life?” 

And with that you spent the next thirty minutes catching up about how lame your menial pleb jobs are and anything memorable from that week before heading home, bounty safely tucked away. Tomorrow was the big day, preparations had to be made, weapons needed to be picked out and cleaned. There was no way to carry concealed with the skimpy uniforms choreographed for this event. Halter tops, short shorts, and holsters don’t mix comfortably. Therefore you had set locations where the guns and other play things would be stashed about.

With everything squared away for the evening you decide to chill stretched out on the couch watching some YouTube on the big screen when your phone rings out a notification from the kitchen where it had been abandoned. With a groan you begrudgingly leave the comfort zone in order to retrieve it. There are a couple of typical pop ups but the one that has your attention focused like a laser and heart skipping a beat is a message from an unknown number that reads:

‘Looking forward to tomorrow evening's festivities. Expect it to go out with a  _ bang _ .


	6. A Proposal

**Chapter 6**

**A Proposal**

Ryan wakes with a start at the sound of something heavy falling in the house followed by cursing. It sounds like Geoff from the hallway. Ryan rolls his eyes, rubs his face, and gets out of bed heading to the kitchen. He shivers while padding across the cold tile, toes curling in a vain attempt to stay warm. Soon enough the kitchen would be lively but for now it was relatively quiet. Peaceful even. Ryan opens the squeaky cupboard doors in search of some coffee causing Geoff to peak his head around the corner in search for the source of the noise.

“Oh, hey Ryan. Jack went to the corner store for breakfast stuff. Should be back in a few minutes.”

“M’kay.” He mumbles out before stifling a yawn. Geoff disappears back into the depths of the house as Ryan starts a pot of coffee and begins pulling out a few mixing bowls, pans, and utensils. By the time it’s done brewing Jack had returned with a plethora of food stuffs.

“Morning. I got eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, onions, milk, creamer, and syrup incase you wanted to make pancakes since we still have flour here. Oh, and bread. Also juice.” As Jack is listing things off she places them on the counter next to the stove. Ryan plucks the creamer from her hands and adds some to the coffee freshly poured into a mug that reads ‘Do not disturb. On murder break.’

“Thanks. Mind waking the others?”

“On it.” Jack leaves to rouse the boys which always proves to be a challenge.

In the meantime Ryan begins a cooking escapade, humming nonchalantly as he prepares breakfast. One by one the boys begin gathering around and setting the table. Once everything is in place and everyone had gathered Ryan starts bringing the finished dishes to the table, placing them down with a flourish. Stacks of pancakes, french toast, eggs of different varieties, home style hash browns, sausage, and bacon now litter the table.

“How does he always manage to time this shit perfectly?” Michael asks as he reaches out to grab some bacon.

“Not with your hands.” Ryan says sternly, rapping Michael’s knuckles with a pair of tongs before handing them to a muttering Michael for said bacon. His cooking is, as always, fantastic. The crew enjoys breakfast while discussing how much they made off with, that Jack would take care of the deposits by the end of the day, and after all the excitement that they would need to lay low for a bit.

After cleaning up the boys head out their separate ways. Ryan decides to pay a visit to the crews information contact, Jon, to see if he knew anything about the woman they had encountered last night. Not wanting to draw attention he dresses down and heads over to Jon’s apartment over in the East Los Santos area in one of the crew’s less conspicuous cars. As old habits die hard Ryan lets himself in, quietly stalking over to Jon who had headphones on and was preoccupied playing some game on the computer. Jon begins calling bullshit on how his character died before giving out a squeak of surprise at catching Ryan’s foreboding reflection in the dark loading screen and dropping the controller.

“Christ! Why do you have to do that EVERY TIME?” Jon says, clutching at his chest with one hand and the chair's arm with the other. Spinning around to face Ryan, who is doubled over in laughter, Jon pouts and takes off his headphones.

“Jerk.”

“Come on. The sounds you make are _hilarious_.” Ryan wipes a tear from his eye, laughter subsiding.

“I wanted to see if you could find out anything on the person living here.” Ryan pulls out a paper with an address scribbled across it and hands it to Jon.

“Any particular reason? Like, should I be secretive in looking around or what.” Jon’s brow furrows as he reads the address.

“Just a person of interest. We happened to cross paths during our heist last night. Text me if you find anything, ok? And have fun with your game.”

With a start Jon swivels back over to the monitor in time to see his character dying again. “Fuck!”

Ryan takes this opportunity to leave and head back to his own apartment.

The rest of the week passes by uneventfully. Thursday night the crew find themselves gathered together over at Jeremy’s just hanging out, even Jon had decided to stop by. Gavin is trying to get Jeremy and Michael to play some new game that had recently come out, Ryan has taken to changing over console inputs, Jack is on snack duty, and Geoff appointed himself as booze bringer.

“So what have you guys been up to. Haven't heard much ruckus this week.” Jon inquires, taking a seat on the couch.

“Not much. We made a big commotion earlier on and we were laying low.” Jack answers as she brings out bowls of chips and dip, setting them on the coffee table.

Jon leans forward for a chip. “Would you guys be up for a job? Got someone who needs a bit of undercover muscle to keep the peace tomorrow night for a big shindig. Seems some of the gangs have gotten wind of it and may or may not make appearances. I know you guys don't normally do this kinda thing and the pay isn’t fantastic but there _are_ free drinks. Essentially you would be getting paid to drink at a party.”

“Dude, free drinks? Hell yeah!” Michael cheers followed by Gavin: “I would do anything after this boring week.”

“Hoooh. A party sounds great.” Jeremy says, sounding pumped at the thought.

“It would be nice to get out again.” Jack hints at Geoff.

Geoff shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

“As long as there is Diet Coke.” Ryan quips in, voice muffled as he works behind the entertainment system.

Jon relaxes back into the couch. “Fantastic! I’ll give you the details later. For now let’s play this game Gavy’s on about. That is, as soon as Ryan is done screwing around back there.”

Ryan sticks his head out from around the T.V., eyebrow cocked in mock irritation. “Look, Jeremy’s ability to tangle all these wires is absolutely uncanny. Have you never heard of cable management?”

“It’s my house! I can manage my cables if I want!” Jeremy huffs in defence.

Once he is done fiddling around and the boys are animately into their game Ryan manages to catch Jon, who was in the kitchen, away from the action. Ryan opens the fridge in search of more Diet Coke and asks the question that, though he wouldn’t verbally admit it, had been gnawing at him all week.

“Find anything out?”

“Yes and no.” Jon says, setting down a glass he pulled from the cabinet.

Cracking open his soda Ryan walks over, leaning on the counter next to Jon. “What exactly do you mean by yes and no? Does she have a fake front to hide her identity or-”

Sternly Jon interrupts Ryan, staring directly at him. “I need to know what your intentions are.”

Running a hand through his hair Ryan sighs. “Like I said she… interests me. Look, I’m not going to torture her. If I was I would have done so already.”

A skeptical look passes over Jon. “I’m trusting you on this. She’s the one that’s offering the undercover work and doesn’t know you guys are the same crew from the bank heist. You play nice tomorrow then I’ll give you more info. BUT.” He pokes a finger firmly into Ryan’s chest. “If you hurt her there will be consequences. She is a good friend of mine. Capisce?”

A roar of cheering and cursing from the living room startles the both of them, breaking the building tension.

Ryan shakes his head and chuckles. “I understand.”

“Great then! Also, I’ll be joining you guys at the party. ” Jon happily claps Ryan on the shoulder before turning to join the boys in the living room.

Pulling out his phone Ryan types up a message to the still mysterious lady.

‘Looking forward to tomorrow evening's festivities. Expect it to go out with a _bang_ .

A smirk adorns his face as he sends the text. It’s getting hard to conceal his excitement at the thought of another eventful meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Ryan is cute Ryan


	7. Party Start

**Chapter 7**

**Party Start**

The doors opened promptly at 8 o’clock and with it a flock of people. Most people are usually fashionably late to these kind of things however due to the location and lack of nearby parking they must have thought it best to arrive early. The event was taking place in a decked out warehouse on the pier that was owned by the guy throwing the party, or at least his parents owned it. Due to it being on said pier there was little parking available, causing many individuals to walk quite a ways before arriving. The inside of the warehouse had been divided up into sections. The far back half was part dressing room, part stage for strippers. The stage was in the center of that side. Curtains, acting as walls for the makeshift dressing and break rooms, wrap around the stage and extend on the right side all the way down to the front of the warehouse. Bars lined the remaining left hand wall, tables and booths scattered amongst the area. A large dance floor filled the remaining right hand side. Another much smaller stage, partially hidden by the curtained walls, held the DJ’s equipment. Large speakers are stationed around the dance floor as well as throughout the facility. The bathrooms were located at the very front. There was also a second floor made up primarily of catwalks. 

As the guests filter in the music starts up, alerting all the employees it's show time. It's low at first but will soon be loud enough to drown out any coherent thoughts. The bartenders, who had been leaning on their respective counters, straighten up. Taking a deep breath you put on a pleasant smile before heading out onto the floor. Can't scare off the crowd with murderous stares now, could we?

A few small groups of gangs seem to be dotted about though they have been keeping to themselves. The first three hours pass without incident. You are kept plenty busy picking up empty glasses and bringing drinks to tables. On the next pass around a familiar face catches your eye a few tables over near the back. Jon is seated with several other individuals, leaning forward chatting animatedly. You swing by on the way back to the bar to greet Jon. Tucking the empty tray under one arm you swing the other around Jon’s shoulders forcefully and squeeze, which startles him and causes laughter from the guys.

“Why hello, hello. I wasn't expecting you to be here.”

“H-heeey. Wow. You look… great. How has it been? Did I miss the action yet?” 

You remove your arm and, eyes rolling, wave it dismissively at the comment. The patron of the party had specifically requested all females not dancing be dressed as skimpy as possible, meaning everyone was dressed in very short shorts and either crop tops or halter tops. Personally you were used to most customers requesting similar attire at other events but this time around it was rather uncomfortable as you were still nursing a fractured rib. 

“Shut it. I am required to wear this shit. Nothing’s happened yet, though it is still early. So who are you entertaining here tonight?”

“Why I’m glad you asked! This group of assholes happens to be the cover crew. Now I know they may not look like an intimidating bunch-”

“Hey!” The shortest one of the bunch seems to take mock offence to this statement

“-but they always get the job done. Guys, this is your employer.”

Jon starts going around the table pointing to and naming everybody. The lad immediately to his left had short, curly, reddish-brown hair and glasses was Michael. A thin British man with a bit of a big nose and light brown hair is Gavin. Jeremy was the short one who had interjected Jon a moment ago. He was quite stocky but it looked to be all muscle. A heavily tattooed man with an impressively curled mustache was Geoff. The lady seated next to him had short red hair and a hawaiian shirt on went by Jack. You didn't question as to why. Lastly was a man somewhatly slouched in order to rest the elbow of the arm propping his head up on the table. He sported a decent amount of scruff for a beard and had hair just long enough to put in a ponytail. His name was Ryan.

“Well, I’m on my way back to the bar. Did you all want some drinks?” 

Everyone lists something off and you head to the bar, putting the order in. While waiting for the drinks to be made there is a bit of a commotion by the entrance. From where you are the doors are barely visible. It seems the group who just walked in was the source. Before spreading out amongst the crowed you were able to see they all seemed to be sporting something orange. This gang wasn’t familiar. 

The bartender finishes making the order, setting the last of the glasses down on the tray with a clink, and raps his knuckles on the bar twice to signify it was complete. Walking it back over to the table you are met with cheers, the one with glasses, Michael, throws his arms up in celebration and pretends to slide out of his chair onto the ground. Seems the guys were excited for their beverages. 

“See that group that just came in? Lotta orange. Any idea who they could be?” You ask while passing out their glasses.

Jon shanks his head. “They don’t look familiar. No gang I've heard of wears orange.”

Jeremy shrug. “No idea.”

“Probably just a group of dickheads.” Geoff scoffs before downing half his drink.

“Yeah. Orange is a pretty bold color choice. It DEFINITELY would have stood out if they were a regular gang around here. Thanks.” Jack nods and takes her drink.

“We’ll just have to keep an eye on ‘em then. Right boi?” Gavin says as he starts playing with his glass.

“Fucking right you are Gav.” Michael agrees.

Ryan it seems didn’t have anything to add in. In fact he had been rather quiet, seemingly choosing to observe. Maybe he was just the silent type. 

You were about to ask if he happened have heard anything when one of the girls that worked backstage hurried over.

“Hey, Kathy isn't feeling well and she's up after this next set. What should I do?”

Sigh. “I'll be there in a minute. Make sure she is ok.”

As she turns to leave you reach out to lay a hand gingerly on Jon’s arm, catching his attention. “I gotta go check on the girls in the back. Keep me posted. Should anything happen the van I used for transporting supplies is parked at the exit behind DJ’s stage. We can use that for a quick escape if things go south.” 

“Alright. Watch your back.” He gives you a serious look before turning to the conversation the boys had just started up about some new upcoming games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys. Haven't been able to write worth a squat lately. Hopefully I can get another chapter out before the end of the month. -.-


	8. Begin Festivities

**Chapter 8**

**Begin Festivities**

As usual the gaming ran well into the morning and, as usual, Ryan woke early on to cook up a storm. The action was soothing, therapeutic even, to him. A big plus was not having to listen to the rest of the crew gripe about being hungry or bicker over where to eat. Over breakfast they discussed plans for that evening. Since their assistance wasn't really needed till late in the evening everyone would meet up over at Michael’s as it was closest to the warehouse. Most of the crew split up, heading out to run errands and such.

Ryan headed back to his humble abode, tending to chores and what-not while waiting the day out. Around 9 the crew gathered back over at Michael’s, all equipped with easily concealed weaponry and ski masks to hide their faces when things turn hectic. It's decided the crew will have to take two cars spilt by Lads and Gents. Jon takes the lead vehicle with the Lads in order to give directions.

After about 40 minutes of fighting traffic everyone manages to park and meet up. The walkway for the pier was littered with drunken guests, some just chatting loudly, others being violently ill over the railing. Ryan wrinkles his nose at the wrenching noises before chuckling as Gavin starts dry heaving.

In between laughing Michael manages to scold Gavin. “We aren't even at the party yet and you're ALREADY GAGING.”

“I can't help it! It sounds god awful.” the British man retorted.

Jon shakes his head. “I remember why I don't go out in public with you guys. You're embarrassing to be around.”

“Did you expect anything less from a group of assholes like us?” Geoff asks.

“I suppose not. It's this building here.” Jon points at the last warehouse on the pier.

After a few more minutes of shuffling through the hordes of bodies, whom couldn't make up their minds on whether they wanted to be inside or outside, the crew found themselves a table to commandeer. Once seated the crew started conversing about the latest gaming tech. Ryan, though thoroughly enjoying the talk, was making sure to scan the crowd for familiar faces and periodically pointing out the small clusters of rival gangs to the crew. It wasn't long before he recognized the face that had been plaguing him recently come up and startle John with a one armed squeeze causing laughter amongst the crew.

_Nice to see I'm not the only one who likes surprising him just for the reaction._

“Why hello, hello. I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“H-heey. Wow. You look… great.”

_Not bad. But not as nice as the other night._ Ryan thinks, discreetly eyeing the woman.

The conversation continues with introductions courtesy of John followed with everyone placing a drink order before the girl left momentarily, allowing the boys to talk amongst themselves.

Jon takes the opportunity to fill the boys in on the details. “We are to help keep these rival gangs in line should they decide to start fighting. She's given the ok to kill as long as most of the staff and guests are spared. Honestly you are getting paid regardless but don't be assholes.”

“We'll try to be less asshole-ish. In the meantime time might be a good idea to get some ‘emergency exits’ set.” Jack hints at the group. Both Ryan and Jeremy make way to the men's room while Jack heads to the lady’s room in order to set up some security measures. Of the exploding variety. Should the exits be barred they would blast the walls down in order to escape. On the way back the three catch a bit of the commotion at the entrance. Some jerks all clad in orange were pushing their luck at the doors. They watched as the group spread out, noting that the individuals appeared to be heading towards other groups of gangs.

Upon returning they found the remaining crew immersed in conversation about upcoming gaming titles.

“Lot of noise over there. You guys didn't start a fight already did you?” Geoff asks as everyone takes their seats.

“Surprisingly enough, no.” Jeremy answers.

“Group of guys that LOOK to be a gang came in with a fuss and dissipated immediately after walking in.” Ryan informs.

“Yeah. They split up right after. Seemed to be-” Jack is interrupted as Michael catches sight of their hostess/contactor. Throwing his hands up in excitement he cheers along with Gavin, Geoff, and Jeremy before slumping out of his chair. Ryan cracks a smile at the crew's enthusiasm.

“See that group that just came in? Lotta orange. Any idea who they could be?” The woman asks while passing out their glasses.

Jon shakes his head. “They don’t look familiar. No gang I've heard of wears orange.”

Jeremy shrugs. “No idea.”

“Probably just a group of dickheads.” Geoff scoffs before downing half his drink.

“Yeah. Orange is a pretty bold color choice. It DEFINITELY would have stood out if they were a regular gang around here. Thanks.” Jack nods and takes her drink.

“We’ll just have to keep an eye on ‘em then. Right boi?” Gavin says as he starts playing with his glass.

“Fucking right you are Gav.” Michael agrees.

Ryan also nods a thank you while taking the last glass filled with none other than tasty Diet coke. Being unsure on how much attention to detail this lady paid mind to it was decidedly safer to stay quiet lest she recognized his voice. He was fairly certain it wouldn't give him away but why risk it. But of course it seemed she wanted a verbal answer from him as well. Just as what assumably was a question seemed to form on her lips another girl caught her attention. The crew start talking amongst themselves while waiting for the exchange to finish.

“Hey, Kathy isn't feeling well and she's up after this next set. What should I do?” Mystery lady asked.

Their contact sighed. “I'll be there in a minute. Make sure she is ok.”

The new girl hurried away as the vixen lays a hand on Jon’s arm effectively pulling him out of the conversation. “I gotta go check on the girls in the back. Keep me posted. Should anything happen the van I used for transporting supplies is parked at the exit behind DJ’s stage. We can use that for a quick escape if things go south.”

“Alright. Watch your back.” John replies, a serious look on his face before turning back to the conversation. “You guys catch that?”

“Well, yeah. Hope the keys are in it otherwise we are fucked.” Michael answers.

“But we don't know if we will even need it. It could be a quiet night.”

Geoff scoff at Gavin's remark. “You think these assholes are capable of playing nice together? Cause they can't and we wouldn't be here.”

Ryan pauses mid-drink, soda raised halfway in air. “Look, we won't know till the night's over. Let's just wait and see.” Everyone agrees with him though Gavin continues with hypothetical scenarios. They argue back and forth the why's and why nots of Gav’s nonsensical questions. Ryan sighs, finishing off the diet coke, and starts looking about the room waiting for the fun to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling to find some creativity to write (as I'm sure you can tell). The next chapter also has an undetermined release date due to this lack. Please help me decide whether to refer to the main character as Y/N, ____, or continue trying to work around having an actual name spoken in the comments. Thank you guys for being awesome <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed this first chapter. Please leave me some feed back (maybe some nice words) or suggestions for what you might like to see happen in the story. Thank you for reading! <3


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